Boobies. Knockers. Love Pillows.

Whatever you want to call them, breasts are pretty cool. I mean, prior to becoming a mom, I always thought my boobs were a-okay. They gave me a nice feminine curve and others really seemed to enjoy them as well. As a 36-B, my boobs never got in the way nor were they a big feature. But, alas, they were my knockers.

Now, as a mom - a breastfeeding mom - my love pillows have fulfilled an entirely new purpose. Not only do you get do be a superpowerful hero that grows an entirely new human being in your belly and through a crazy and miraculous process push that being out of your body, but your body, and yes, with those glorious titties of yours, you get to feed it.

I mean, seriously, the body is a pretty cool thing. (Female body...okay, okay, fine. Male bodies are okay too.)

While pregnant, I decided that I wanted to try breastfeeding. I knew all the "breast is best" stuff but never set a definitive goal (this is big, by the way, to set a goal for how long you will breastfeed for). A girlfriend had told me that breastfeeding was much harder than she had ever anticipated so I paid extra attention during the breastfeeding segment of our birthing class. And, for a totally selfish reason, everyone who I had ever met who breastfed raved about how it was the best way to shed the pregnancy weight. Bonus.

But once on the breastfeeding bandwagon, I was surprised by how crazy a ride it is. Your boobs assume an entirely new personality. Those luscious love pillows are suddenly tender, engorged parts of your body. Rather than the head of a lover, you find the tiny, fragile head of a baby nestled against you. All. The. Time. The sensual, sexiness of your knockers is gone. You are the essence of a mammal feeding her young.

Yes, breastfeeding is a huge commitment of time and energy. My mom continually asks "when are you going to stop breastfeeding?" and my mother-in-law, who is a public health nurse, was relieved to hear that we started supplementing with formula because "you just seem so tired." (Huh? Really? A public health nurse? Yes.) And then, there is even your own doubt. Breastfeeding is a great bonding experience but the pressure is on you, and you alone, to feed the baby. Repeated refrain from the Hubby: "But you are the only one who can feed her." Its been hard for him...and created a strain between the two of us and the glorious, perfectly balanced parenting partnership we want.

But, as a parent, you are constantly striving to do whatever it takes to make that little munchkin the most happy and healthy munchkin ever. And, if my love pillows are part of that, than so be it. Yes, one day, perhaps not too long from today, my knockers will return their status of sensual, sexiness. But, in the interim, their new purpose is pretty darn cool.

Bizarro

At about 11:30pm last night I woke up to this large "POP!" I woke up the Hubby, asking him if he too had heard the sound. I am prone to nighttime neurosis so he just mumbled and rolled over. But, as I lay awake, i heard this crinkle, crinkle, crinkle. I shook the Hubby and made him sit up in bed to listen.Our bedroom has a large sliding glass door that leads to a solarium. The glass on one of the panes had shattered, creating an eerie crystal spider web. We turned on the lights and looked around for some cause. There was nothing in the solarium that looked like it had banged the glass nor was there anything on our bedroom side. But it was spooky.

We turned the lights off, crawled back into bed and just as I was finally drifting off to sleep the Hubby says "Do you hear that?! Sunshine is crying. And its from outside, not the baby monitor!!"

WHAT THE HECK?!

I bolt out of bed. He bolts out of bed. I yell to our dog "Go! Get 'em" and run up the stairs carrying the ash shovel from our fireplace set. The Hubby makes it to Sunshine first. She is in her crib, peacefully asleep. Meanwhile, I am having a total freak-out as I fear some abductor has used the breaking of the glass as a distraction to steal our baby. Breathe. We go back into our bedroom. I am shaking because I am so freaked out. Why is it that, in the dark and at night, the world can seem so scary? Sitting on the bed, I continue to have delusions of an abductor. I tell the Hubby that I can't sleep in our room and I take a pillow and blanket up to sleep in Sunshine's room.

The Hubby follows shortly.

Then, after all of this craziness. Sunshine wakes up and starts to cry. I soothe her back to sleep and then the Hubby and I crawl out to the couch. We curl up next to each other, protecting our baby and house. I mandate that the dog join us as well.

We sleep until @ 4am when Sunshine wakes up to eat. We then head back into our room.

This morning, the Hubby got up early and thoroughly investigated. No, no one had shot us. No, there was no animal in the solarium. Yes, our baby was still here. It seems as if to have spontaneously shattered. At work, I, of course, spent about 30 minutes googling "spontaneous window shattering." It does happen but that still doesn't mean I am not freaked out.

A little crush

Yes, its true. I have a crush. I have a crush on our President, Barak Obama. We watched his address this week and I gotta say that the man makes me swoon. When I hear him speak my heart swells and yes, I do get teary-eyed. Not only does he speak to true priorities, such as education and the environment, but his style is so compelling and inspiring. I mean, you gotta give props to a President who says that "nobody messes" with his VP. I think it speaks to his character that, in a state of crisis, he decides to be real. His poise and eloquence is fawesome. I don't agree with everything he is proposing but he is setting new priorities that will move us away from a fearful, warring country to a country that can once again be a true innovator and leader.
Thanks, Barak, YTB.